David Morrell - Black Evening

"One hundred percent."

"And Danny, what about you? You haven't said anything." I nodded, wondering what the hell I was doing there. "Yeah, right, one hundred percent."

It was more like two hundred percent – of torture. The weightlifting and sprints Joey and I had been doing were a joke compared to what Coach Hayes soon made us do. Even the guys who'd stayed in shape all summer had trouble keeping up with the routines. That two-mile double-time warmup nearly killed me. And the calisthenics – I threw up when I got home and smelled the meat loaf my Mom had cooked.

The next morning, Sunday, my knees felt so stiff I hobbled when I crawled out of bed. I groaned to Joey on the phone, "This isn't going to work. I'm telling you I can't make the try out today. I feel like shit."

"Danny," my mother said from the kitchen. "Watch your language."

"You think you feel worse than me?" Joey asked. "All night I dreamed I was doing situps. My stomach's got rocks in it."

"Then let's not go."

"We're going. We promised. I won't break my word."

"But what's the point? Even a date with Rebecca Henderson isn't worth the agony we'll be going through."

"Rebecca Henderson? Who cares? The team," he said. "I want to make the team."

"But I thought – "

"I said that just to get you interested. Listen, Danny, we've got a chance to belong to something special, to be good at something, better than anybody else. I'm tired of being a fuckup."

On the phone in the background, I heard Joey's mother tell him to watch his language.

"But my back feels – "

"We've been friends a long time, right?"

"Since we started grade school."

"And we've done everything together, right? We went to the movies together, and we went swimming together, and we – "

"I get the idea. But – "

"So I'm asking you, let's do this together, too. I don't want to lose your friendship, Danny. I don't want to do this by myself."

Inside I felt warm, knowing what he was trying to tell me. Sure, it was sappy, but I guess I loved him like a brother.

"Okay," I said. "If it means that much to you."

"It means that much."

When we showed up that afternoon behind the gym, Coach Hayes blinked. "Wonders never cease."

"We told you we're serious," Joey said.

"And sore?"

"You bet."

"Legs feel like they've been run over by a truck?"

"A steamroller."

Coach Hayes grinned. "Well, at least you're honest. Even the pros admit they hurt. The trick is to do the job no matter how much it hurts."

I silently cursed.

"We won't let you down," Joey said.

"We'll see. Danny, you sure don't say much. Everybody, let's get started. Double-time around the track. After that, I've got a few new exercises for you."

Inwardly I groaned.

After the first mile, I nearly threw up again.

But it's funny. I guess you can get used to anything. Monday morning, I felt awful. I mean really wretched. There wasn't a part of me that didn't ache.

And Tuesday morning was worse. I don't want to remember Wednesday morning. Plus, we didn't hang around the Chicken Nest anymore or go down to my rec room, playing records. We didn't have time. And I felt so tired all I wanted to do was watch the tube.

But I had to hit the books. Every night after supper, Joey phoned to make sure I was studying. What I missed most were those cherry Cokes and fries, but Coach Hayes insisted we stay off them. We could eat spaghetti but no mashed potatoes, beef was okay but the next day had to be chicken or fish. My mother went crazy trying to figure out the menus. For the life of me, I didn't understand the diet. But along about Saturday, after a week of tryouts, I started feeling not too bad. Oh, I still ached, but it was a different kind of ache. Solid and tight, pulling me in. And my mind felt brighter, clearer.

The first quiz I took I got an A.

Two Sundays later, Coach Hayes lined us up after our workout. The bunch of us stood there facing him, breathing hard, sweating.

"Freddie," Coach Hayes told the kid beside me. "Sorry. You just don't have enough weight. The West High team'd mash you into the field. Maybe next year. For what it's worth, you're nimble enough to get on the track team." He shifted his glance. "Pete, you'd make a good tackle. Harry, I like the way you block."

And so on. Down until only Joey and I were left.

Coach Hayes spread his legs, put his hands on his hips and scowled. "As for you two guys, I've never seen a more miserable pair of…"

Joey made a choking sound.

"But I guess you'll do."

Joey breathed out sharply.

I cheered.

"We made it." Joey grinned with excitement. "I can't believe we're on the team!"

We stood on the corner where we always separated going home.

I laughed. "It's the first thing I ever really tried for."

"And got! We're on the team!"

"I owe you. I couldn't have done it without you," I said.

"Same goes here."

"But I'd have quit if you hadn't…"

"Naw. I was close to quitting a couple times myself," Joey said.

I didn't think so. He'd wanted it more than I had.

"I'd better go. My Mom'll have supper ready," I said.

"Yeah, mine will, too. I'll meet you a half hour early tomorrow so we can study for that science quiz."

"You bet." I didn't add what I was thinking.

Joey added it for me. "Now comes the hard part."

He was right. What we'd been doing until then was only exercises and sloppy scrimmage. Now we really got down to business.

"I've diagrammed these plays for you to memorize." Coach Hayes aimed a pointer against a blackboard in the social studies room after Monday's final bell. "I'll soon give you plenty more. You'll have to learn about game psychology, how to fake out the other team. And you'll have to build team spirit. That's as important as anything else. I want you guys to hang around with each other, go to movies together, eat lunch together. I want you all to understand each other until you can guess what Joey or Pete or Danny will do on the field. Anticipate each other. That's the secret."

But Coach Hayes had another secret. I didn't learn about it until our first game, and that was two weeks away. In the meantime, the pressure kept building. Harder longer exercise sessions. Practice games until my shoulder ached so bad I thought I'd dislocate it throwing the ball.

That's right. Throwing the ball. I guess Coach Hayes had been more impressed with us than he let on. After trying different guys in different positions, he'd actually picked me as a quarterback and Joey as a receiver.

"You two think alike. Let's see if you can make it work for you."

Sure, I was proud. But there were still grades to keep up and even more plays to memorize. I had no time to think about Rebecca Henderson. The school, the team, and winning were all Coach Hayes told us mattered.

Six-thirty Friday night, we showed up at the locker room and put on our uniforms. I felt shaky already. The other guys hardly spoke. Their faces were pale. Coach Hayes didn't help any when he started bitching about how good the other team was.

"Covington High's gonna stomp us. You guys aren't ready. You look like a bunch of losers. Eight winning seasons, and now I'm stuck being nursemaid to a bunch of sissies. I can't take the embarrassment of going out there with you. Pussies."

He went on like that, sounding meaner, more insulting as he went along until he had us so mad I wanted to shout at him to shut the fuck up. I knew what he was doing – using psychology to work us up, so we'd take out our anger on the other team – but all of us respected Coach Hayes so much and wanted him to like us so much that hearing him put us down made me feel like we'd been fools. You bastard, I thought.